Addiction doesn’t define you

Addiction Did Not Define My Friend

It did ultimately destroy him

My son on the left, and his “Uncle Terrence” on the right. Photo from author’s collection

I met my best friend and my son’s godfather, Terrence, in an Abnormal Psychology class. Was that foreshadowing?

I was thirty-eight and in graduate school, and Terrence was twenty-six and an undergraduate.

A group of us raced across the street during the break in the three-hour night class, and downed a pitcher of Shiner Bock. Terrence joined us, but he didn’t partake. When class started again, all in our group except Terrence were giggly and rowdy. He started sitting several rows above us to avoid being embarrassed.

Why was I drinking during breaks when I was a grownup in grad school? I was in the midst of a mid-life crisis. My life was in turmoil in many ways. I was living uneasily with my husband who traveled often, and I was commuting to graduate school. I wanted a baby, and my husband refused.

Terrence helped keep me on an even keel throughout that time of crisis, with his humor and his love.

He let me stay overnight at his apartment when I drank during breaks and didn’t want to drive the 45 minutes home to my estranged husband. Sometimes we went to the only LBGTQIA bar in Denton, Texas at the time — a lesbian bar — and danced…